


the robes

by kerrykins



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-25 23:11:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins





	the robes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sarahstreep7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahstreep7/gifts).



“Miranda, it’s eight,” Andy says fervently, knowing she sounds panicked.

 

They were supposed to be up hours ago. New York traffic is always shitty by eight, and they’d be late for a preview with some designer that Andy already forgot the name of. “Miranda, get up.”

 

It’s funny how much Miranda grumbles nonstop about how Andy wants to sleep in on Sundays, and then proceeds to flat-out ignore her when Andy’s trying to wake her up for work.

 

Miranda makes a startled _prrrup_ noise when Andy yanks the sheets off, then narrows her eyes. “That wasn’t necessary.” She pulls the covers back up, and growls when Andy removes them again.

 

“Hate to break it to you, but we are going to be late as hell to the preview today.”

 

That gets Miranda moving. Well, sort of at least. She sits up, still looking sufficiently sleepy, her white hair going everywhere in little tufts.

 

Andy wishes that they weren’t on such a tight schedule so she could take the time to appreciate how adorable Miranda is.

 

“I’d completely forgotten.” Miranda says with a yawn, not seeming remotely worried. “Do you mind fetching me my robe from the closet?”

 

Andy sighs, because she wanted to take a shower, and Miranda was perfectly capable of getting her own robe. “Which one?”

 

“The grey one.”

 

“I mean which closet?”

 

“One on the left. No, my left.”

 

She opens it, and her eyes widen. The closet was stuffed with grey robes, all identical in size and colouring. “Um. Miranda?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why do you have so many robes?”

 

Andy hears Miranda’s sharp intake of breath. “Oh. I happen to like that particular style.”

 

“Yeah, but why do you need--” Andy counts them quickly. “Forty-seven of them?” She turns around to glance at Miranda, who’s gone quiet.

 

She isn’t meeting Andy’s eyes. “Well, why not?” Her voice is just as cool as it always is, but there’s a pretty good chance that she’s blushing.

 

“Why not? Miranda, this is insane. You have a whole closet dedicated to robes.”

 

Miranda pauses a beat before answering. “Yes.” Andy waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “So why?”

 

The older woman’s burying her face in her hands. She tends to do that when she’s upset. “Impulse purchase. I’d just gotten divorced from Stephen.” She chuckles bitterly and Andy tenses at the mention of her ex-husband.

 

“He’d told me that all the clothes in my closet couldn’t make up for how empty my heart was. I was angry, and filled up his old closet with nothing but robes. The very same one I was wearing in Paris.”

 

Miranda’s eyes are hard and cold.

 

Andy’s pretty sure she’s the worst person to ever live. “Oh my god, Miranda, I’m so sorry.”

 

To her surprise, Miranda smiles. It’s a little strained, but genuine nonetheless.

 

“You have nothing to apologise for. You didn’t know, and you weren’t the one that left me at the busiest time of the year.” She’s obviously trying to make Andy feel better.

 

Andy tries not to think about how close she was to walking out on her during Fashion Week. “Right.”

 

She’s beyond glad she didn’t.

 

Miranda’s expression is still sad. Andy takes a robe from the closet, and walks back to their bed. “You want me to tell them to push the preview back?”

 

Miranda allows Andy to help her into the robe. She usually doesn’t, even with coats. The older woman’s not wearing anything but lingerie from last night, and Andy’s breath hitches when she sees pale, perfect skin and black satin.

 

“Fine,” Miranda says, knotting the sash around her waist.

 

Andy grins and plops down onto the bed. The mattress dips. “Nice.”

 

She’s pulled her phone out and about to dial them, when Miranda murmurs, “The preview isn’t until ten. Come here.”

 

“I’m already here.”

 

“You mean you’re on the other side of the bed, practically miles away. Get over here.”

 

Andy’s more than happy to oblige. Miranda’s lips are soft and sweet.


End file.
